


quiet afternoon crush

by merriell



Series: antarlina (e) [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, Homophobia, Magic, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 06:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19987525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriell/pseuds/merriell
Summary: 2021. After an argument with Giri, Anta visited his house in Semarang to talk. Who he met was Giri's sister that he had not even heard before. But she's not exactly hissister, the same way that they aren't exactly just friends.





	quiet afternoon crush

Antariksa Syailendra realized, just then, that he never really visited Giri’s house before.

It was weird to think that his little brother had been here before him, acquainted with the walls before Anta could even lay his eyes on it. It was even weirder that he was standing outside on his own, trying to gauge whether to stay or to go, knowing full well his feet wasn’t going anywhere. 

There had been no invitation sent to him, no request. But after Giri had stormed off, eyes dark and full of — full of _something_ that Anta had no words of, Anta finished his work, submitted his daily report, and Eluded back to his home country. 

Usually, Eluding was something easy. It was perhaps his most preferred way of transportation, used it everyday to go to work and go back home. Eluding to a different continent, to a place he’s never been before, though, blew exhaustion into him until he had to catch his breath. He felt like he just ran a marathon, dizzy from the extortion of strength. 

He didn’t even notice there was a young girl standing in front of him until she coughed to catch his attention. 

She must have not been younger than twenty, her straight, jet black hair falling close to the base of her spine, contrast again the silk-and-lace dress who barely covered her honeyed thighs. Her skin was sun-kissed. She looked like Giri, but with slender figure and sharp jawline, all cat-like and feminine, while Giri himself was muscles and wide chest, everything in him aggressive and masculine. The girl stared at him with a brow raised, her gaze sweeping him from the crown of his head to his feet.

Anta fidgeted uncomfortably, his right hand pulling the lab coat around him until it covered the stained shirt he was wearing. It did not seem like she was looking at him with her eyes; her magical energy, electric as it was, danced on the surface of Anta’s skin, unwelcome. It was strong, despite the young girl not moving in the slightest.

“Giri never mentioned a sister,” he said when the girl only continued to stare.

For the first time, she met his gaze before pouting. “I’m not his sister.”

A normal person might have apologised by then, but Anta simply gave her a shrug. “You look like him. You look like a _sister_.”

“And you look like Angkasa,” she seemed to mull it over for a second. Something in her eyes sparkled before she pulled open the fence, making a way for him to walk in. “Okay, I understand now. You’re _him_. Are you here to meet Girindra?”

You’re _him._ The way she said it sounded like she knew exactly who he was supposed to be. “Are you expecting me?” Anta asked as he stood still, staring at the opened entrance, feeling suspicious by the lack of questions she was giving him.

“Not really. Never expected anyone to come around here.” She frowned. “People pass by and they just get too scared to even greet us. Rude, isn’t it?”

Anta could see why people get scared. The big, old banyan tree took up almost the whole frontyard, the branches splayed over their heads, to the point that even the sunlight struggled to peek in. The tree made the temperature of the house cooler from the shade even in the humid weather. To normal people it would have come off as creepy. Anta didn’t think it was, although he must admit, as he walked in, the difference in temperature had been too drastic he couldn’t help but start thinking that he might have been looking at it wrong.

“Girindra isn’t actually here,” she said as she pushed the fence back closed behind him, inserting the lock back to its place. Anta didn’t even see her unlock it. “It’s 12 am on a Tuesday, people have _work_. Not that his work stuff have any strict schedule,” she continued to ramble as she made her way back to the porch. Anta followed, though hesitantly. If Giri wasn’t here he probably could just come back later; he might have finished his work, but as a Lead Researcher, just doing the grunt of his work wasn’t enough — he has his underlings to worry about, new materials to study, and project ideas to brainstorm. “You should wait here until he comes back. It’s not long. Usually. Since it’s not Lawang Sewu stuff, he should be back in any second now.”

“He has other work?” Anta lingered at the steps of the porch. 

“Pretty sporadical, but with that line of work, it’s to be expected.”

He pursed his lips at that, wondering what that meant. Giri and him started meeting again two months ago, and they had had a few lunches and dinners amidst Anta’s work schedule, mostly to catch up. Anta appreciated the company — even more than he’d like to admit. He had lost contacts with most of his high school friends, but Giri was _Giri_. Their relationship had been… different. To say the very least. 

_Friends_. The fight last night had been over that word, that he had dropped casually over dinner that Giri had so-graciously cooked. Giri had spat it out with anger coating it. _Friends? Have you forgotten what happened?_

Anta was a tad offended by the question. He never took himself as an asshole, but the way Giri’s mouth had curled, loathsome, over the words, have made him feel that way. He wasn’t an idiot. He remembered, remembered everything.

“If you’re not his sister, who are you? His cousin or something?” He watched as she laid at a long rattan seat near the door, sprawling on the surface, cat-like. He thought he saw something in her change, like her body was shrinking, shifting shorter, into a figure that probably then was in middle school. His eyes must have been wrong; he squinted. “Are you… using magic to change your appearance?”

“Huh?” She was wearing a silk dress before; it had turned to a Japanese _seifuku_ , her ankles barely showing from the length of the skirt. “Not really.”

“You are. That’s very interesting physical magic work.” He rubbed his jaw, interested on the lack of effort and movement it warranted for her to change her appearance. Some people needed hours to even change any of their features permanently.

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not _physical_ magic.”

“Then what is it?”

Her expression curled into surprise, then amusement. “Haven’t you an idea now that I’m not exactly human?”

“Are you a _gumiho_?” Granted, he had never seen one before, wasn’t quite well-versed at Biology as he would’ve been in high school, but human-shaped foxes seemed to be a reasonable assessment. They might have hailed from Korea, but there had been cases and more cases recently where they emigrated and mingled without revealing their identities.

“I’m Kanggani,” she answered, unhelpfully. “And no, I’m not a magical creature, Antariksa. Not the way you’re thinking, at least.”

He took a step closer to her, examining her closely. Fixing the way his glasses had slightly slid down the bridge of his nose, he tried to remember what Giri had told him about his home life (very little) and his family’s magic (even lesser). He knew that his friend was well-versed in an ancient form of magic, the kind that people from the West regarded as black magic, despite the racist connotations of it. 

“Are you a spirit?” he asked. From the way she frowned, he figured that wasn’t correct, either. “Then,” he paused, remembering the text he had read through Summer’s collection before she snatched it back, “a demon?”

“ _Ding ding ding ding_!” She exclaimed in glee. “Don’t I seem normal?”

_Normal_ wasn’t exactly what he would kindly put Kanggani into words. It was obvious, how magical she was; she wielded her magical prowess too easy, without any structure or form, a feat that any accomplished Einmagis would find difficult. Anta had stumbled into meeting with various Einmagis over the years, each with their own particularity, whether it was scent or the color of their magical energy, and any powerful magician would have their distinct smell, if anything else, the more powerful they have, the more difficulty they are going to have to do to hide their characteristic. Summer smelled like — well, _summer_ , like tropical beaches and coconut, weirdly. Her brother, the one with bright green eyes, always a smile upon his face, and a slew of underworld connections with his name, smelled like a tang of blood, pine needles, with something sweet under it. 

Kanggani smelled of nothing. She smelled like the entire house, an old, lived-in smell, mixing with soil, not entirely unwelcome, but not even the slightest bit of _distinct_.

But to be fair, she _looked_ normal. As normal as a shape-shifting young woman would look like.

“Giri never mentioned anything about any demon,” he said, but he’s only been talking to him recently, and Giri had never been the type to disclose his home situation.

She sniffed at the air, playing with her black hair, looking far away. “From where I’m hearing, he doesn’t tell you anything, does he?”

Anta had never been a sensitive person, but that _stung_ , not that he would ever confess to it.

“He’s not exactly someone talkative.”

A lie. An oversimplification. 

He remembered the first time he met Giri. He had instantly thought that it would be impossible for them to become friends — he’d even wondered what Kinan was doing with someone… so _different_ than him. Kinan had been the school’s prince, more about his kindness than his popularity, though it was a close call. He was the basketball star, head of the student council, straight As, a family’s man, though always been unlucky with love. Kinan had always been nice to Anta, despite the lack of reciprocation. 

Giri had been someone virtually unknown, mysterious, who was benched from the basketball practice not because he was bad (unlike Anta), but because he was _bad_. He ended up joining the hiking extracurricular and what others would consider the ultimate bad boy with his buzzcut and ripped denim, his eyes always glossing over people that wasn’t Kinan and Theo’s friends, always laughing loudly, skipped class, sported a big motorcycle without a helmet. Giri had always ignored Anta, even if Kinan was talking to him.

That was before they actually became friends. Before he got dragged to the friend group and Giri actually looked at him instead of straight through him. Before they spent afternoons at Anta’s room, left alone by Kinan who always had something to do.

Giri talked. A lot, even when Anta didn’t exactly answer him. About anything; it could have been the news, rock music, folk stories. And Anta, who never listened, _listened_. Giri was million contradictions, a bastard who’s kind, someone who looks rough but speaks softly, someone who he thought he wouldn’t be friends with, and ended up really liking.

“That doesn’t sound like Giri,” Kanggani replied with a thin smile.

Which brought a scoff from Anta. “Fine, he doesn’t tell me anything.” 

“He doesn’t really tell anyone anything,” she said. “Unfortunately for him, I know _everything_ in this house.”

Anta wondered what that meant. “Where did he go, anyway? What did you mean by he has another job earlier?”

Instantly, something in her face shifted. She frowned, teeth biting into her plump lower lip. “I’m afraid he’ll get angry if I tell you.”

“But you’re a _demon_.”

“I’m _his_ family.”

“You’re a demon who can change your appearance. You might look like his sister, but does it really mean that you’re family?” He asked, before realizing how rude it could have gotten. “Not to be rude. I’m just wondering about the nature of your kind. There’s not exactly a _guide_ on you.” There probably was, it was just not the kind of knowledge easily acquired.

“I’ve been beside him since he was a child. So, yeah, I’m family, even though I’m not his sister.”

Anta quietly asked himself how it felt to have a demon as a sibling. He could barely deal with Aksa since their father had decided that turning the brothers into rivals had been a reasonable child-rearing behaviour. He had been a harsh brother, yes, he could even see that _sometimes_ , but he believed that it had been out of love. He doubt that Aksa would say the same thing, considering that he was mostly sure that the boy had a victim or inferior complex and the fact he spent their time together making snide remarks at Anta, but _still_. 

“You’re more powerful than him, though, you shouldn’t be scared that he’ll hurt you.”

“He won’t dare to hurt me, but I don’t enjoy him being angry.”

“No one enjoys seeing him angry,” he replied automatically.

Giri was fearful in rage, an unstoppable storm. They were friends when Giri had blown up at school after someone had called Kinan and him faggots — the rumors about them had been abysmal even when Kinan was dating someone, better than it would have been in a conservative or religion-focused school, yes, and more rude remarks about _who do you think is the girl_ rather than violent attacks, but it had been inappropriate — and it scared Anta, seeing his fists burrowing into someone’s face, his magic barely contained under his skin, his eyes wild with pent up aggression. He had been lucky that Kinan’s parents had interjected, saying they would sue the school if they dare to lift any finger at Giri. 

Giri had came back to school a week later, the bruise in his cheekbone healing. The grin in his face when he said _wasn’t I like a knight defending his honor?_ was as bright as ever. Kinan had snorted and punched his shoulder playfully, saying something along the lines of he didn't need saving from anyone. But something inside Anta moved, something he didn’t understand yet, back then. He understood what that meant now. 

Giri’s rage last night had been different. More contained, silent but thunderous. He had grown, but also had the anger. There was something off-kilter about him, his eyes unfocused, dulled by something like alcohol; but the wine had been untouched, and there was no indication of anything else but cigarettes in that room that night.

“He was angry when he came home,” Kanggani mused, “it was because of you, isn’t it?”

Anta nodded.

“I haven’t seen him that angry for a while. But he was also really _sad_ ,” her brows furrowed like she was thinking. “I want to like you, Antariksa. Please don’t break his heart.” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked back. He was here because he found the right word for them, found the answer that Giri had wanted from him. He wished that Giri would listen. 

_Why didn’t you call me back?_

Giri asked that last night in the middle of their arguments. He didn't have an answer to it yet. He said he was busy with work. The truth was that he was _scared_. Love wasn't something he thought of about a lot, if not ever. Giri had been the _first_ one. He had been involved with girls through high school, who got angry at the fact that he wasn't the type to text or call back. _He's a covert asshole_ , Theo had dubbed him. _The one you don't see coming, the one who don't even understand he was wrong_. And he was... he was a guy. Anta's first (and last) move was made when he was drunk, when they were both drunk.

Sober, he was afraid.

But he was even sober, now. He tasted again how life felt fuller when Giri was around, and he discovered he was even more afraid of feeling lonely again.

“Yes,” Kanggani drawls, a smile edging in her face. She was beautiful, in an ancient way, like she just walked out of an oil painting. “I hope your presence here is not too late.” 

He returned the smile. “I hope the same, too."


End file.
